


Inside Out

by still_lycoris



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: M/M, No actual sex, Sex Talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2013-12-30
Packaged: 2018-01-06 19:27:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1110639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/still_lycoris/pseuds/still_lycoris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blake and Avon talk. A little too much. It's probably Vila's fault.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inside Out

It was all Vila’s fault.

 _He_ was the one who had smuggled alcohol back onto _The Liberator_. _He_ was the one who had insisted that they all shared it when they’d caught him with it (all right, perhaps actually accepting the offer had been Blake’s mistake but still.) And then _he_ was the one who had started talking about sex.

“No, I mean it,” he insisted, sitting up to try and show how much he meant what he was saying. “You can learn more about a man or a woman if you take them to bed than at any other time.”

“How do you work that out?” Gan asked, sounding gently amused and patting Vila in a gentle sort of way. Vila grinned up at him proudly, clearly pleased to be sharing knowledge with them all.

“Well first off, you see them with their defences down,” he said enthusiastically. “Nobody can keep up all their pretences and masks in bed, it’s just not possible – ”

“You’d like to think that anyway,” Jenna muttered and Blake wondered if there was a story there. Perhaps he would ask her sometime.

“And secondly,” Vila said, clearly determined not to be interrupted. “You can find out all this stuff. What do they like? If you know what they like, you can find out why they like it. You can find out _them_. Do they have, you know, weird little fetishes? Fetishes are great, I knew this guy once who couldn’t get it up unless his partners were wearing high heeled shoes … ”

He trailed off into another story and it should have all been forgotten. Only just as he’d mentioned finding out “them”, Blake had looked up and met Avon’s eyes. And seen the challenge that had flickered there, just for a second.

When they’d finally split up to go to their quarters, Blake had followed Avon to his. Avon hadn’t tried to stop him. He’d let him in and watched as Blake closed the door behind him, a tiny, twisted smile on his lips.

“Letting that idiot get into your mind, Blake? I don’t think that’s a good idea, Vila’s probably the only person on this ship more likely to get us all killed than you.”

“Is that one of your many threats, Avon?”

“Merely a warning.” Avon folded his arms but he was still smiling that little smile, looking at Blake thoughtfully. “Do you hope to bed me then? Get into my head, find out everything about me?”

“That would be fascinating,” Blake said dryly. “If unlikely. Appealing though.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Avon said. “You’d just love to get inside me, wouldn’t you, Blake?”

Blake wondered if it was the drink that made a small shiver run down his spine at the idea of that. He hoped that it wasn’t noticeable to Avon. This was stupid, he shouldn’t be here … and yet …

“You’d quite like to get inside _me_ , wouldn’t you, Avon?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. Avon’s smile flickered, very slightly.

“I’m already inside _you_ , Blake. It’s not hard to get into _your_ mind.”

“No?” Blake asked lightly. “Well then, I suppose I’d better go to the trouble of seducing you then. I’d better make it good or you’ll be bored if there’s nothing to learn.”

“I’m sure you would be dreadful at seduction,” Avon said, his eyes still flicking over Blake’s face. “Like watching a bull in a china shop.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t bother with any of the finer points with you,” Blake said quietly, moving just a little closer. “What would be the point? You’d hate being seduced anyway, wouldn’t you? You feel like it was being tricked.”

Avon gave a small shrug. Was it Blake’s imagination or was Avon the littlest bit flushed? He resisted the urge to move even closer to see.

“So, how would you _not_ seduce me then?” Avon asked, his voice still cool as ever. “Throw yourself on me, perhaps? Slobbering like a dog?”

“No,” Blake said, keeping his voice quite composed. “I’d just walk up to you, rather like this and get you by the arms and kiss you. Quite gently. You look like you have quite soft lips, it would be a pity to bruise them.”

“I don’t bruise easily, Blake.”

“Of course not. Still. I’d be gentle anyway. I prefer things gentle. And I wouldn’t want to make you angry. So slow kisses at first, to see if you respond.”

“And you think I would?” Avon was trying to sneer but Blake was sure there was something there, just the faintest touch of … something.

“Maybe,” he said.

“Maybe,” Avon repeated dismissively. “Or maybe I prefer it rough, Blake. Did you think of that? If you kiss me sweetly, I might bite you.”

Oh, that shouldn’t have made him shiver, it shouldn’t, but the thought of Avon biting his lips … Blake had to swallow, had to hope that it didn’t show on his face. It probably did though because Avon’s attempt at a sneer became a smirk and he stepped closer to the table that was between them.

“Yes, I’d bite you,” he said, almost conversationally. “Bite that mouth of yours, make you bleed. I wouldn’t stop either, God, I think I might enjoy hurting you.”

“And maybe I’d enjoy being hurt,” Blake said before he could stop himself. “Or does that not feature in this little fantasy?”

Avon rocked on his feet, just the tiniest bit but oh, Blake saw it. He had to swallow again before he could speak. A part of him was telling him that they needed to stop this ridiculous conversation, that he should make his excuses and leave but another part of him, the bigger part, seemed compelled to keep talking.

“I don’t mind it rough, Avon. I’d let you bite me if that was going to please you. I’m just not going to bite you back, that’s all. So you bite away until I get sick of it and then I think I’ll put my bruised and bloody mouth somewhere else on you.”

 _That_ got a twitch. Avon’s eyes were slightly wider than normal now and he’d laid his hands on the table, fingers splayed. He had long fingers, beautiful long fingers that Blake was suddenly paying much more attention to than he ever had before.

“Go on your knees for me, would you, Blake?” Avon’s voice sounded a tiny bit hoarse. “I didn’t see you as the kneeling type.”

“Who said that I’d kneel?” Blake flashed back, trying to sound like he was in control, trying not to picture himself on his knees in front of Avon. “Besides, I’m not going that low yet. No, I’d kiss your throat, start working on stripping you. Peel you out of those leathers.”

“Far too slowly, I’m sure,” Avon said. “I think I’d tear your clothes off. Maybe take off some of your skin too, scratch you and make you bleed.”

“You would, wouldn’t you?” Blake said. “I’m not going to scratch you back though. I don’t care how much you hurt me, how much you try to bully me into retaliation. I’m going to stay slow with you, Avon, slow and gentle, because I want to see what you’re like when someone just won’t hurt you.”

Avon’s fingers tensed on the table. He swayed a little and Blake wondered what he was thinking. Was he picturing this the way Blake was? Did the idea appeal?

“High and mighty as ever,” Avon whispered, his voice shaking. “I’d hurt you, Blake. The softer you are with me, the more I’ll savage you. You won’t tame me.”

“I don’t want you tamed,” Blake said. “Just … briefly gentled perhaps. I want to see you open, Avon. Violence won’t open you. So no matter what you do to me, I’ll stay slow and gentle and smooth and see what you do.”

“I won’t gentle,” Avon breathed. His hands were trembling on the wood, he was staring at Blake and somehow, their faces had got closer together, too close. “I’ll never gentle with you, Blake. Never.”

“So you’ll fight me?” Blake was trying to keep his voice calm but it wasn’t working. The shudder there had to be obvious now, his own fingers gripping the table too. Picturing Avon in his arms, writhing and scratching and _biting_ , God …

“Every step,” Avon ground out. “Every step of the way, Blake.”

When had their heads got so close together? He could feel Avon’s breath on his mouth.

“I’ll tear you down,” Avon whispered. “I’ll tear you down, Blake. I will make you scream until your throat is broken, make you beg for me at the same time. I will show you all the power I have and I will pin you down beneath it.”

“And I’ll slip inside you,” Blake whispered back. “I’ll seduce you, Avon. You can’t fight me with violence, you can’t stop me. I’ll just sink into every part of you, show you something more than you believe you can have.”

Avon swayed. For a second, for a hot, shining moment, their lips were touching, Avon’s damp, Blake’s dry. Blake longed to deepen it, wanted to taste, wanted – 

But Avon twitched back and the moment was shattered. They stared at each other, glassy-eyed and gasping. Avon stepped back and Blake turned and walked out, knowing that if he didn’t, Avon would fight as he’d threatened, use every tool he had to keep Blake away from him. It wasn’t worth it. He didn’t want to fight Avon. He wanted – 

To be inside him?

Blake leaned against the wall and swallowed. It was entirely possible that Vila had been right.

He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

**Author's Note:**

> written for the livejournal 12dayschristmas challenge


End file.
